Another World, Another Time
by Daniel Lazerus
Summary: Terrorist angst. In a twist of plotline, a parallel Junjou world is created. Here, not every romance has a happy ending. People make decisions out of love or fear and life goes on, regardless. Story complete and multiple chapters will be uploaded at once. A different ending than originally planned. Rated M for content.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica or any of its characters**

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter One**

* * *

"You should just go."

"Eh?" Miyagi's eyes drifted over to where his junior was seated.

Hiroki frowned in irritation as he pushed himself back from his desk and stood up. "You heard me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kamijou."

"Right."

Seeing the unconvinced look in Hiroki's face Miyagi snorted back. "Right!"

With a shake of his dark head, Hiroki reached down and picked up his briefcase. "Keep telling yourself that, Professor." Grabbing a pile of ungraded compositions he stuffed these into his satchel. "I'm going home. Watching you continually checking the clock is annoying."

With a glare and another shake of his head, Hiroki swept his sport coat up off the back of his chair and strode towards the door.

Miyagi called out after, his voice far more jovial than he felt. "Tell that doctor of yours he should prescribe something to you for your moods."

Hiroki had the door open and was halfway out when Miyagi spoke. He turned and looked back. Miyagi was surprised to see that rather than his junior's normal, easy anger, the younger professor was regarding him with an expression that was…

_Sad?_

"Nowaki is a surgeon not a psychiatrist." Hiroki's face was solemn. "And for the last time… I really think you should go." These words were said softly, free from his usual huff. After a moment, getting no response Hiroki nodded. He stepped out, quietly closing their office door behind him.

Miyagi sat there silently for several minutes after he'd left.

_Pipsqueak. What does he know! _

"Damn, I need a cigarette."

Miyagi patted his breast pocket and, finding it empty, pulled out the top drawer of his desk. He was still fuming, blindly feeling about for the pack he kept there, when his fingertips grazed dog-eared pages. His hand flew back as if it had been bitten. Pulling it up before his face, he stared at his perfectly fine fingers for a long moment.

_You're being stupid, Old Man._

Miyagi frowned, knowing that he'd spoken the words to himself even though the voice he'd heard in his head was not his own.

His hand returned to the drawer's handle and he opened it further. Peering in, he located his spare pack and drew it out. A moment later a wisp of smoke curled up and dangled from the tip of his newly lit fag.

The little ritual of lighting up alone should have soothed him, but it didn't. Blue eyes darted over to the clock on the wall above the office door.

_Grrrr._

Looking away, Miyagi felt his gaze drawn to the still-open drawer with the same sense of magnetism. He made himself pull and resettle his cigarette, exhaling deeply in between, before he allowed his hand to dip down inside. It emerged holding a book; the spine heavily cracked, the pages rumpled from multiple readings. Miyagi traced the lettering on the creased cardboard cover, unconscious of the tenderness in this caress.

A moment later, he reached over to shut the drawer. His eyes drifted back down into its contents once more before they disappeared from view. Not that he needed to see them: he knew every magazine and yellowing newspaper clipping held there by heart, along with the various sheets printed from off of the web.

Drawer closed, Miyagi shifted his gaze to the book on his desk; his eyes then traveled back over to the clock once more.

_Damn you, Kamijou._

Pushing back, he reached into the pocket of his slacks to withdraw his phone, the ancient flip his braver students teased him about. He flicked over to messaging and started to tap in a text, cursing the slowness. Another quick glance at the clock and he snapped his phone shut, message unsent. Then, in one fluid motion, the cell was returned to his pocket, his cigarette stubbed, and he was standing, tattered tome in hand.

"Fuck," Miyagi grumbled to his book and scroll-littered office. With a deep sigh he turned, grabbed his coat and case too, and headed out into the University's evening-quiet hallways.

* * *

Arriving at the lecture hall, Miyagi found it relatively packed. While on one level this pleased him, on another he found it annoyingly intrusive. Locating an empty seat near the back, he slipped in. A few of his pupils noted his entrance and greeted him politely. Miyagi was cordial but not his normal buoyant self and his students, recognizing this, refrained from their usual hovering.

The murmur of the crowd stilled when a few moments later, Minoku Ryou, one of the literature department's new assistant professors, took the podium. Miyagi listened raptly to the man's introduction, though there was little information about their honored guest lecturer that he didn't already know.

The evening's speaker had graduated with a law degree from the prestigious "T" University, despite the fact he'd been disowned from his family half way through when he'd declared his sexual orientation. After graduating, he joined a law-firm, one that specialized in advocacy for LGTBQ cases, both in Tokyo and throughout Japan.

Despite working for almost nothing, the young man quickly made a name for himself. His skills in interpreting and challenging an unjust legal system brought him to the media's attention on a number of high profile cases. And even those few he didn't win could still be counted as victories, in that they had led to a much greater public awareness of issues facing often oppressed minorities.

Miyagi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his stomach grew tight, knowing what came next.

Celebrity had its drawbacks, however, and an unsettled individual with opposing sentiments found a moment to attack the young lawyer in the midst of a crowd leaving one of Tokyo's major courtrooms. The man made three severe punctures in the few seconds he had, before security wrestled him to the ground and relieved him of the knife.

The wounds had been almost fatal.

It had taken their honored speaker over two years to recover. But even in his convalescence, he continued to work. Unable to carry on in his law practice, he turned his energies to writing. Having read a tremendous deal in his youth, so much that he'd even wavered in his decision initially at University as whether to undertake Literature or the Law as his focus, he decided to turn his knowledge into yet another vehicle for change.

What emerged from this was a series of books that now had gone into numerous printings and had been translated and published worldwide in fifteen different languages.

While one might classify them at their base as detective stories, they were really so much more. To start with, the language and imagery was such it elevated the work far above pulp, and propelled these pieces in to the arena of literature. Beyond this however, the work was groundbreaking for mainstream Japanese literature due to its characters, the protagonist an older man, a private detective, kicked off the police force after becoming sexually involved with a young male thief he saved from an assault.

These two men, detective and criminal, castaways both of them, braved on, making their way through the world together. The love between them was severely raw at times, their dynamics tumultuous. But their relationship was also honest and moving in a way that transcended orientation for many a reader.

The young thief eventually righted his circumstances, and with the encouragement of his detective, left his illicit past for a career in law. Working as a team, the duo took on the most desperate of cases, seeking to rectify the abuses of others pushed to the periphery of Japanese society.

The culmination of these stories was a breathtaking amalgamation. Written like poetry, they were a proclamation of the beauty of male emotion and love, and they were also a call for recognition, acceptance, and social change.

At this end of Professor Minoku's introduction, the lecture hall remained silent. Miyagi's blue eyes scanned the crowd and he could see that there were few in the audience who had not been deeply moved.

The battered book in his lap suddenly seemed unbearably heavy.

_What a different time it is that I find myself in. I never really imagined I'd see a day when such topics could be spoken of in this open way._

Miyagi's gaze drifted back to the orator.

Minoku was the first openly "out" hire in the Department of Languages and Literature: Kamijou, even though he'd been an associate professor at "M" for over fourteen years now, continued to live his life privately and had still never brought Kusama to even a single faculty function.

Even more amazing,however, Minoku's appointment had been approved by Dean Takatsuki himself.

All thoughts of Minoku or Kamijou fled from Miyagi, when suddenly the guest speaker rose from where he'd been seated and made his way to podium.

As the room broke into thunderous applause, a tsunami of emotions engulfed Miyagi. Watching Shinobu step up to the microphone, he was transfixed by the sight of the young man "thanking" Minoku for his too generous introduction. A familiar hint of pink colored the handsome if slightly more angular face.

_How long has it truly been? _Miyagi found himself wondering.

Following Shinobu's rise as he had, through all his various clippings, it hadn't really seemed as though they had been too far apart. Not until now anyways. Seeing Shinobu here in the flesh, golden-haired and gray-eyed, however, the years suddenly came crashing down.

_Ten years… it has been ten, empty, long-aching years._

That a decade had passed since they'd last been in the same room seemed impossible.

Miyagi cleared his throat quietly and hoped that if anyone in the dim auditorium noticed how the corners of his eyes glistened, they'd attribute this to Minoku's introduction.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

It was several minutes into the lecture before Miyagi's brain could even begin to process what Shinobu was saying: he was too lost in the vision of the young man standing at the lectern. None of the photos or video clips he'd looked at over the years had ever done Shinobu justice.

Despite the fact his cheeks still retained a bit of color, Shinobu's posture was straight, his movements displayed no hesitation. Miyagi marveled at how the sport coat he wore fit him. His shoulders had broadened, his chest filled, his waist tapered to flat, trim lines.

_He never did get too tall though. _

Not that Miyagi had ever minded Shinobu's shortness. In fact, he'd always enjoyed being larger in stature. _The way this made us fit togeth… _A laugh from the audience at one of Shinobu's witty comments pulled him off this dangerous mental track and Miyagi was grateful for it.

Tearing his gaze away for a moment to scan the crowd, it was obvious Shinobu made up in presence whatever he might be lacking in height. His confident and charismatic manner pulled people in. The audience was on the edge of their seats, hanging on his every word. A burst of pride filled Miyagi's chest, though he acknowledged to himself this warmth was misplaced. While the young man up on the dais embodied everything he had hoped and believed Shinobu would become, he knew too that he'd played no part in it.

_If anything, it's even more impressive what he's accomplished, after what I did to him._

Chaos filled Miyagi as a locked door in his mind suddenly clicked open and a dozen different memories tumbled out.

_"But you claimed me, Miyagi! Before your Sensei, you held my hand and declared it!" _Miyagi could still hear the anguish in Shinobu's voice as if it was yesterday._ "We can get through this together; I know it!"_

_"Grow up, Shinobu! You've read too many fairy tales. Do you know what would happen to me if I'd told your father the truth about us?_

It would have been a lie for Miyagi to say that he didn't love his terrorist, but that day in the Dean's office had filled him with such dread. Love or work… It had been a miserable choosing. And Miyagi had known his work for so much longer.

_People fade, books endure..._ This was life had taught him.

He'd been overwhelmed then too, considering what such a scandal would do to him; especially if he lost his post. Despite all his accomplishments, at his age, with Shinobu in tow, securing a new appointment almost anywhere would have been next to impossible.

_And Shinobu's future?_

At the time, he'd told himself he was looking out for them both when he'd made his terrible decision. And it had always struck him, regardless of his young lover's declarations, sooner or later, even if they'd stayed together then, given their differences, Shinobu would someday leave him behind. He'd rationalized too that Shinobu was young. He had time to start over and would eventually find someone else to open his heart to. (He had after so many years of pining for his Sensei, after all.)

Their initial separation had been far harder than Miyagi could have imagined. But despite the pain it caused him, he'd held fast even though found himself having to be cruel in ways he'd never imagined: not with words or blows, but most often simply with silence. At the time it had seemed the best course and he'd allowed himself to believe, on occasion, that what he'd done was actually protecting Shinobu.

_The balls of the kid, coming out to his father anyways, and never implicating me in the process._ Miyagi shook his head lightly. He still wondered sometimes if Shinobu hadn't done this in the hopes that this bravery would spur him into making his own declarations.

_He was always more courageous than I._

Miyagi was pulled from this reverie when he realized that the auditorium had become strangely silent. Lifting his eyes from where they'd fallen and focused on the cover of the book in his lap, he was startled to find his gaze greeted by a pair of stunned eyes.

Grey met blue and both widened.

A second later, Miyagi dropped his head. He raised his hand to his mouth and pretended to cough. It was enough to jar Shinobu back to himself and, in a moment, the sounds of the young author's voice filled the lecture hall again. Only the sharpest of ears would have caught the short-lived tremor beneath the fluid tones. Miyagi kept his eyes lowered after this, afraid if he raised his eyes he would find Shinobu looking at him again. Equally afraid he would not.

Like his frame, Shinobu's voice had filled out as well. It was richer and deeper, and held the crisp polished edge of a practiced public speaker. Head dipping slightly further down, Miyagi allowed the still-familiar voice to roll over him. It eddied and pooled in hollows within him he had forgotten existed. A broad thumb grazed over pages made fuzzy from repeated turnings, as Miyagi wondered how long it had taken for Shinobu to master this.

The edge of his mouth curled up despite the heaviness in his chest when he thought back to all their impassioned debates: Shinobu's voice cracking at the most critical point in his furor and him teasing his boy about it.

Half of his mind listening to the articulate twenty-nine year old author, the other half listening to his memories, Miyagi sat there as Shinobu continued his lecture.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Miyagi continued to sit long after Shinobu's speech had concluded, although he'd risen briefly with the rest of the audience when they offered their standing ovation.

Shinobu had timed his talk beautifully but a lengthy question and answer session followed. While the topics in his books had become more acceptable, they were still hot points for many and while a large number in attendance were fans, a few critics had come as well, seeking to stir up debates. Miyagi saw so much of his old boy in Shinobu's passionate replies to each question posed. But the young man, so careful in his articulate responses, answering assuredly without rising to the baiting of his detractors, was a stranger to him.

Blue eyes shifted to the clock hanging on the wall above the dais. He'd been sitting there now almost an hour past the Q and A session, watching as the line for autographs and signed book copies finally dwindled. Rising stiffly, he gathered his coat and case and began making his way to the exit.

_Why the hell did you linger so long if you just planned to leave?_

Despite his resolve to quietly slip away, he found his rebellious feet carrying him across the back of the lecture hall and down the aisle where Shinobu was still seated behind a small table, signing books. He grimaced when this trajectory brought him cross-paths with Dean Takatsuki leaving the auditorium with Minoku at his side. The two men were deep in conversation.

Glancing up Minoku recognized Miyagi and called out. "Professor Miyagi, so glad to see you here! I didn't figure you a fan of this sort of literature. Thought you might find it too _modern_."

Internally Miyagi frowned at the young professor's teasing; they had not known each other long enough for Minoku to be so casual. But then, Minoku had a reputation for being a provocateur. He was quite full of himself too: entering the University with almost as many accolades as Miyagi had when he'd started.

"I always encourage my students not to make assertions without conducting thorough research first, Minoku-kun," Miyagi offered with a false smile. "My reading habits are actually quite broad."

Minoku frowned at the "kun" as well as Miyagi's pointed reply, but before he could respond Dean Takatsuki interjected. "I imagine that Miyagi might have a special interest in these books."

"Oh?" Minoku's eyes widened expectantly.

"He was part of our family for a time."

The vague way that the Dean said this, stirred an uneasy curiosity in Miyagi. He'd never figured out how much Takatsuki had really known about extent of his relationship with his son.

_Enough it seemed at the time. _

However, once he and Shinobu parted, his exchanges with the Dean had quickly become even more infrequent than before. And, on the rare moments they now met, Takatsuki was unequivocally terse.

"You must be very proud of Shinobu-kun." Miyagi offered, and he meant it sincerely.

He had read that after Shinobu's attack, the entire Takatsuki family had rallied around him. The silver lining of the whole terrible ordeal, that it had brought about a reconciliation between Shinobu and his father.

"I am fortunate to have a remarkable and resilient son," Takatsuki-san puffed, though his cheeks pinked a bit.

"He's lucky to have such a supportive father," Minoku murmured.

Takatsuki colored further hearing these words. Rather than reply to Minoku, he fixed steely eyes on Miyagi. "When it comes to matters of family, some things are more easily forgiven than others."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on that worthless secretary of mine and make sure that she's got everything underway at the reception."

Miyagi had felt himself blanch at the Dean's words, wondering if their meaning aligned with his sense of conviction. He stood stunned; barely able to even nod as he watched Minoku and Takatsuki depart. A giggle broke him from his stupor. Two female students passed by him on their way out of the lecture hall, signed books held tight to pert chests, whispering about Shinobu's charm and bemoaning the fact he was gay.

Miyagi felt even more strongly now that he should just leave, yet still, he found himself traveling down to become the last in the line of the evening's admirers.

Soon only two people stood ahead of him. All he could see, however, was Shinobu.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow; his heart thundered within his chest. Miyagi was chagrined to realize he suddenly needed to piss. But being this close he couldn't retreat. What's more, he was mesmerized by the details this distance allowed him: the slight beard shadow visible on an angular jaw, how close Shinobu's hair had been shaved in the back, all its variations of gold in front. He could even see, beneath Shinobu's lightly-slipped tie, that the top button of his dress shirt was loose.

Too quickly, the people ahead of him got their signings.

Shinobu had just been finishing the woman directly in front of Miyagi, when a young man who'd been standing silently behind, stepped up and whispered something in Shinobu's ear.

All Miyagi caught were the words "time" and "reception."

"I'll just do this last one and then we can go." Shinobu murmured back. "How would you like me to inscribe this?" The question was asked, hand outstretched, unseeing; Shinobu's eyes still on his companion.

For some reason this made Miyagi's lips curl up at the edges.

"I'll let you decide that, I think."

At the sound of his voice, the blond head whipped around.

"Miyagi!" Shinobu exhaled his name harshly.

The polished young man that had been there only moments before disappeared in an instant. Shinobu looked down, shoulders suddenly hunched. The fingers of one hand nervously toyed with his pen. When Shinobu's head lifted the small smile that had quirked Miyagi's lips evaporated as he watched a dozen different emotions rumble with in the gray eyes before him. Then just as quickly as they'd sparked, these were gone, replaced with a carefully cultivated blankness.

_The courtroom trained him well._

Miyagi couldn't decide which of Shinobu's expressions had pained him more. But it was especially difficult, knowing that he was the reason for the cold front now visible in Shinobu's stormy gaze; especially when he'd seen these same eyes lit up for him in the past with the intensity of a wildfire.

_What did you expect, Idiot? You broke his heart._

It was all Miyagi could do to keep his voice even. He cleared his throat and worked hard not to lick his lips, which suddenly were far too dry. "Hello, Shinobu. It's been a long time. Good to see you doing so well."

_At least until I showed up. _

Shinobu rose and gave Miyagi a formal bow. "Thank you. I have been keeping myself busy, one way or another it seems."

Miyagi found a new smile at this self-deprecation but the skin around his mouth felt overly-tight. "You have done far more than merely keep yourself busy, Shinobu. You should be immensely pleased with all you have accomplished. I know that I have been greatly pleased for you."

A blond head cocked to the side. It was a mannerism Miyagi knew well: one Shinobu used to adopt when he was working hard to figure something out. After a moment the gray eyes dropped down and Shinobu's gaze fell on the book Miyagi still held in his hand.

"I enjoyed your talk tonight. You have become quite the orator," Miyagi felt the words fall lamely the moment they tripped off his tongue.

"You read my book?" The words were uttered in little more than a whisper as Shinobu reached out a fine-boned hand.

Miyagi felt a rare blush rise to his cheeks as he handed the well-worn copy over. The visible wear of the book was as blatant a confession as he could ever make. "I have read every one of your books. Some more than once, obviously…" The tenderness in his tone surprised them both.

For a long moment two dusky-hued gazes held one another. This was broken too soon, or perhaps just soon enough, when a new voice intruded into Shinobu and Miyagi's silent conversation.

"Shinobu."

Miyagi looked over and noted Shinobu's companion once more, this time however, the man that had been attending Shinobu all evening had placed a proprietary hand on the young author's shoulder. Miyagi realized he knew Shinobu's companion and was surprised that he'd not recognized him earlier.

_I must be slipping._

While he was aware of Toyoda Yoshino mostly through the articles and pictures he'd gathered over the years, he had actually been introduced to Toyoda once or twice when Shinobu had first been in law school.

The first time they'd met, Toyoda had been over at what was then, "their" apartment. He'd come home from the University and found Toyoda and Shinobu studying for exams at the kitchen table. He had given the young men their space, moving over to the couch to work on his student's course work. But watching from his post in the sitting room, even then, Miyagi had caught Toyoda casting furtive glances at Shinobu whenever his boy's head was down. So it hadn't really surprised him too much when Toyoda had stepped in to help Shinobu pick up the pieces when things between them had fallen apart.

What had surprised Miyagi, however, was that Toyoda's new role in Shinobu's life had endured.

"Takatsuki-san, I know you might like to stay and talk with your sensei, but we really do need to get you to the reception. You're already running quite late.

Clouded eyes blinked as Shinobu was broken from his daze by Toyoda's voice. He shook his head slightly and his cheeks suddenly burned pinker than they had all evening.

"Ah, Miyagi… Please excuse my lack of manners. I don't know if you remember Toyoda … My husband."

Once again Miyagi found himself in awe of the times. He had known that Shinobu and Toyoda had married as a political statement while Shinobu had been on a book tour in America. Still, it was shocking to hear the word "husband" in the context of coupled men, especially uttered so casually.

"Of course, it's good to see you again, Toyoda-kun."

"Likewise, Miyagi-sensei. It has been a long time."

Miyagi had made sure to keep his tone light, his fake smile bright, but Toyoda was making no such effort. The young man's dark eyes were just short of hostile, and while he had removed his hand from Shinobu's shoulder to exchange bows, the second he straightened, his claiming grasp had immediately returned.

_Not that I blame him…_

Through tracking Shinobu's path, Miyagi knew that Toyoda had been at his former lover's side through every difficult step. He was there when Shinobu had been abandoned by first lover and then father, he had labored with Shinobu through law school, was present at the attack, and he'd even given up his own practice to nurse Shinobu back to health during his lengthy recovery. Meanwhile Miyagi…

_I didn't even call Shinobu once, all that time he was in the hospital._

Shinobu it seemed had come to a similar conclusion. "I'm sorry, Miyagi, but Toyoda-san's right. I should get to the reception." He looked down at the tattered book in his hand. "Would you still like me to inscribe this for you?"

Even after all these years, Miyagi's ears were still fine-tuned enough to his former lover's voice to hear the subtle shake beneath the surface of Shinobu's words.

"I'd like that very much, Shinobu; if you'd be willing."

"Maybe you should sign a new copy for Miyagi-sensei. That one looks as though it's not long for the world."

Blue eyes darted over to Toyoda. "That's not necessary. I rather cherish that book. Shinobu will tell you, Toyoda-kun, that I sometimes have a hard time letting go of things."

"Sometimes…" The single word, Shinobu's soft murmur, dealt a blow that knocked Miyagi's heart off cadence.

Shinobu took the new copy held in Toyoda's hand and set this down on the table along with Miyagi's. "I'll inscribe them both and you can take the two." He sat down smoothly and picked up his pen, not meeting either Miyagi or Toyoda's eyes.

After a few moments of careful contemplation, he opened the older text and began to write. A few minutes later, he folded back the crisp cover of the new text and made his second inscription. As Shinobu wrote, Toyoda removed himself to gather their things. He continued to stay back, watching warily as Shinobu rose to hand the brothered books to Miyagi.

"Thank you for coming this evening, Miyagi. It was nice to see you after all this time."

"Likewise, Shinobu."

There were a million other words swimming on the tip of his tongue, but Miyagi held this verbal tsunami back, knowing at this point there was really nothing he could say… Nothing he had any right to. As he leaned in to take his books, however a few words managed to escape him.

"For what it's worth Shinobu, I am so very proud of you. Not just for these…" Large hands trembled beneath the light weight of the books. "But in everything."

Without stopping to read the inscriptions, Miyagi slipped the two texts into his bag. "And... I am sorry."

Looking up, Miyagi saw Shinobu's expression had not shifted, although his gray eyes glistened.

_He's changed so much..._

"I'm sorry too, Miyagi, but 'sorry' doesn't really change anything.

Miyagi was well aware that Shinobu's simple statement held his former boy's truth on multiple levels.

"And as you once said, perhaps everything that happened was for the better."

Unable to trust his own tongue anymore at this point, Miyagi nodded silently. He watched Shinobu turn away from him and move back to Toyoda, who was quietly waiting, holding their things. Toyoda set their coats and cases down and opened his arms to Shinobu.

It was only when Toyoda had gathered Shinobu in that Miyagi's frozen feet suddenly thawed. Regaining his locomotion, he immediately turned and fled the auditorium.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Despite the late hour, the city was frantic as Miyagi drove homewards, the roads hectic with cars. He was hardly disturbed by this, however, his mind elsewhere. Sitting stalled in traffic, he once again pulled out his phone and began tapping out a text; the screen unexpectedly disappearing when an incoming call buzzed in_._

"Damn it!"

He hated it when this happened. Cursing beneath his breath he switched out of text mode. Even after all these years, despite the fact he'd been the one to end it, he'd never taken Shinobu out of his phone. His heart stopped for just the slightest of seconds, suddenly thinking that it might be Shinobu's face that came up when he opened the call. Instead, a picture of Kamijou popped onto the screen. The younger professor had his hands up in the image, warding off Miyagi's invading cell cam, his expression clearly annoyed.

Miyagi continued damning himself for both his stupidity and the reckless hope that had welled in him as he answered. Even so, he schooled his tone into one full of false humor. "What are you doing, calling me so late in the evening, Kamijou? Are you already missing me so much?"

"Hardly!" Hiroki growled back. "I have a question about an edit you made on my manuscript, Professor." After a pause, he added in a gentler voice. "Thank you again for looking it over for me."

"No problem," Miyagi offered in return. This was true; he really enjoyed reading Hiroki's work. It was a pleasant diversion from his students, not to mention Kamijou was brilliant and his texts rarely had much that needed to be amended. "So, shoot with the question."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to disturb you at home."

A wry smile curled Miyagi's mouth at this veiled inquiry. Reaching over, he pulled a cigarette out of the open pack on the seat beside him and lit up.

"I'm not at home, Kamijou." _I should punch you: telling me I should go. _

"Oh?"

Despite his dark mood, Miyagi couldn't help but chuckle at the feigned innocence.

"Do you want to meet somewhere for a drink and go over the manuscript with me then?"

Miyagi exhaled a long plume of smoke and stared at the taillights ahead of him as he inched his car forward. He knew that Kamijou didn't have a question about his edits. He was merely checking in to see if he'd gone to the lecture and, now that had, if he needed a shoulder to cry on. Something in Miyagi's bruised heart bled a bit more at his junior's ill-concealed attempt to offer him comfort.

"Hiro-san?"

In the back ground, Miyagi heard the drowsy mumble of Kamijou's partner, followed by a quiet "shush" from Hiroki. Too clearly he could imagine his junior, sitting in his rumpled bed, his giant curled up, sleeping beside him. Miyagi was shocked by the wave of envy that suddenly crashed within his chest.

"Hey, Kamijou, thanks for the offer, but I'm heading home now. Late enough already. Do you mind waiting and we can take a look at it tomorrow. Say, during office hours?"

"Ah, sure, Professor. You're right; it can probably wait. Sorry to bother you so late." There was uncertainty in Hiroki's voice as he offered his apology and Miyagi realized that his junior was debating whether or not to force the issue of meeting to make sure he was okay.

"Yeah, I know how all gung-ho, you get about your projects; but you need to get your beauty sleep too. I haven't shared an office with you all these years just for that lovely brain of yours, Ka-mi-jou." Miyagi made sure his voice held just the right amount of lewdness. Even after so many seasons together, surprisingly this was still the best way to throw the younger professor off track.

His tactic worked, as Hiroki offered a disgusted snort in response. "I would have thought by now, my appeal would have faded."

"You're like a fine wine, Kamijou. You just get better with age."

"Goodnight, Miyagi," Hiroki conceded at last, his irritated voice acknowledging his defeat.

"See you at the office tomorrow." Miyagi flipped his phone shut, text forgotten once more as he stubbed out his cigarette and grabbed another one. He was acutely aware he was smoking too much.

_But I need nicotine right now._

As the traffic continued to crawl on, Miyagi realized this wasn't all he craved. Looking off to his right, he saw an opening in the lane beside him. He knew if he took it, where this detour would lead him. Then his eyes drifted down beside him to the passenger seat where his briefcase sat, Shinobu's two books tucked inside.

_Fuck it. Kamijou was right about one thing: I do need a drink!_

With a sharp turn of the wheel and the blast of a few car horns behind him, Miyagi darted into the opening. Within a minute, he'd turned off down one of Tokyo's darker, quieter streets.

* * *

The air around him was dusky with smoke. From his stool at the counter, blue eyes glanced up at the clock hung high up in the middle of the bar's ornate wooden backdrop. He'd been here almost an hour already, drinking without any success. Then just as he was about to get up and leave, a young man moved up beside him.

"Got a cigarette?"

Miyagi appraised his questioner. He was perhaps in his late twenties, thirty at most. Tight jeans and t-shirt revealed a body that either was accustomed to hard labor or spent too much time at the gym. The stubble lining the jaw matched the man's close-cropped black hair.

Dark-green eyes rolled over Miyagi, equally measuring, as the young man slid up on the stool next to him. One hand reached out towards his open pack on the bar, the other slunk below the counter and placed a measured squeeze on Miyagi's trouser-clad crotch. Normally Miyagi would have rebuffed such an advance. For one, the guy was far from his usual type. These days, on the rare occasions he ventured out to such places, he generally sought disconcertingly younger companions: slight, slender youths, maned with gold.

But tonight was different.

Silently Miyagi tapped a fag out of his pack and placed it between thick calloused fingers. The man before him smirked and brought the stick to his lips. He continued to watch Miyagi carefully as the professor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his lighter. When the cigarette was lit, he inhaled deeply and puffed out several neat rings of smoke, all the while kneading Miyagi's cock.

Miyagi kept his face composed as he felt himself harden, his wretchedness swelling in equal measure to his arousal. Even so, he made no move to knock away the strange hand that held him.

Tonight he wanted to be obliterated.

"Buy you a drink?" The words came out huskier than he anticipated.

The other man said nothing to Miyagi's offer, but his green gaze suddenly took on a feral glow. He drew another deep drag and then used the cigarette to motion towards the black velvet curtain at the far side of the bar. Then he stood and began walking that direction.

Understanding immediately, Miyagi picked up his near empty pack and tucked it into his breast pocket. He gulped the last of his drink and looked back just in time to see the tight, jean-clad ass disappear behind the curtain.

_I still have a choice. I can leave now and go home. It would be so simple._

"Fuck simplicity," Miyagi growled low in his throat as he pushed himself back from the bar and followed after.

* * *

No sooner had he broken through the curtain into the shadowy room behind, than rough hands grabbed him and began shoving back into a darkened corner. Amidst the sounds of rutting men, he allowed himself to be propelled without protest through the sweating bodies that filled the room; nor did he rebel when he was finally stopped and strong fingers wound into his hair pulling him forward.

Dry lips crashed against his own and Miyagi opened up to the demanding tongue, slick in contrast.

A moment later his hair was pulled as the hands that gripped him pushed him down to his knees. He remained kneeling as these hands left him to deftly unbuckle. Miyagi barely paused when the thick dick slapped against his cheek. He parted his slack jaw wider and found his mouth immediately filled and fucked; his hair gripped again as the man who had him began to thrust. He fought not to gag as the back of his throat was hit. His nose was crushed repeatedly into the thick thatch at the base of his trick's cock. It smelled of sweat and sex, and slightly of urine.

Just when Miyagi reached a point of breathlessness that made him lightheaded, the man above him pulled out. Even before he had a chance to fill his burning lungs, Miyagi felt himself lifted to his feet and turned. While the younger man might not have been that much taller than he, the guy was certainly stronger.

Spittle dripped from Miyagi's cock-bruised lips. His forearms caught the wall ahead of him before his chest was crushed against it. The man behind him had hands on his belt in an instant. Miyagi felt the humid air of the room on his bared ass a second later. He felt the man drop down. His cheeks were roughly parted and a hot, wet tongue pressed against the hidden parts of him. A growl burned in Miyagi's throat when two greasy fingers followed, pushing in. He bristled not at the intrusion, but at his emptiness.

The lube-coated fingers continued to work him, coating his insides.

_Nice he came prepared._

The bitter chuckle that bubbled in his broad chest was burst by a groan when fingers slipped away and the man stood up again. A condom-sheathed cock slid into him before he was really ready. He supposed he should have felt relieved at the sensation of latex, but in truth, he could have cared less in that moment. Even with its crude stretching, the heavy dick impaling him did little to touch his void; but the jab and the burn did take the edge off of his deeper ache.

Miyagi allowed his forehead to rest against the dank wall. Tears filled his eyes and his breath hitched in miserable gratitude as his hips were gripped tightly and he felt himself shatter, pounded without mercy into nothingness.

* * *

**I said at the start this fic was dark. Next chapter is the last.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know it has been months and I'd said long ago I had one more chapter and I would be finished with this fic. Unfortunately, life had other ideas in the interim. But at last, here it is... Complete and four chapters longer than originally intended. Rather than tease you with uploading at intervals, however, I plan to put it all up at once here.**

**Thank you for being patient with me.**

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Miyagi breathed a sigh of thanks, grateful that his hand held relatively steady as the key clicked into the front-door lock. Stepping into the dim entry, he set his work case down beside him and slipped out of his shoes. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it up. After loosening his tie, Miyagi picked his case back up and carried it with him into the apartment.

The main room was illuminated by a single light hanging above the dining table. Miyagi glanced over at the clock that hung on the wall nearby; it was well after midnight.

"You're up late, Azami."

At his voice, a dark head looked up from the piles of papers scattered over the table's surface. The seated woman before him swept long, black bangs off her forehead. She adjusted her glasses and peered at him over their rim.

"And you're just late." Her response was posed as a statement, not an accusation.

_Yet…_

"I stayed for a lecture." Miyagi offered this casually as he moved into the kitchen. Laying his case on the counter, he opened the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of water.

"Whose?"

"Takatsuki Shinobu."

It felt so strange to speak Shinobu's full name. No matter how many times it rolled through his thoughts, it had been ages since he'd said it out loud and reacquainting his tongue with it now, in this context, felt very wrong.

Miyagi opened the water bottle and took a swig to wash away the sudden salt in his mouth.

"Dean Takatsuki's son?... The one who writes those gay novels?"

"Ummmm…" Miyagi nodded in agreement. Azami knew nothing of his past with Shinobu and he intended to keep it this way: his former terrorist had become his most cherished secret.

Azami sniffed disapprovingly. However wanton she could be at times, her sensibilities overall were remarkably conservative.

"Well, that was a smart move, I suppose. Never hurts to be close to the Dean… Although I know you've been closer."

The words were said without malice but even though still lightly drunk, Miyagi picked up on the tension in Azami's voice. He'd been with her long enough to know, despite the calm delivery, now that the Takatsuki name had been uttered, saying anything further at this point would only incite.

Not wishing to be pulled into combat, feeling as he was; he stayed silent rather than retort. Azami, however, was not willing to allow him retreat so easily. It was clear that in addition to grading her student's compositions, she had spent the evening gathering arms and wouldn't be content without a fight.

"Was _she_ there?"

Knowing exactly who "she" was, Miyagi shook his head and sighed in exasperation.

While her hyper-vigilance in regards to almost any female interaction had provided him a suitable excuse for avoiding women over the past few years, Azami was even more vigilant against the Takatsuki she _was_ aware of. Among other things, she sorely resented the fact he had married Risako, an arrangement he'd not been willing to repeat with her.

Also, that Risako herself had re-married, an innocuous but doting businessman, six years ago and had since given him two daughters, had no effect on Azami's certainty that somehow her lover's ex-wife would someday re-claim him.

For Miyagi, although valid, if mis-guided, Azami's fear-filled anxieties had long passed tiresome.

"If she was I didn't see her. Didn't look for her either. '_She'_ wasn't the reason I was there.

"I went to see Shinobu."

Miyagi stopped short the moment this simple statement left his mouth.

_ How long has it been since my words have been so truthful?_

Frowning at the firmness in his voice, Azami kept her own meticulously level as she shifted her attack. "So… Did that ancient cell of yours finally give up its ghost?"

"Eh?" Furrowing his brow, Miyagi feigned confusion at the sudden change in topic.

Glancing away and back down at the history papers she'd been grading, Azami emitted a soft huff of frustration. Her spine was rigid, shoulders tense.

"Why didn't you call me if you knew you were going to be so late? Or at least text?"

Recalling earlier in that evening, his two aborted messages, Miyagi leaned back against the counter and tried to appear nonchalant. The ache in his ass stirred when his hips met the counter's edge. He hoped his wince read as chagrin.

"I hadn't planned to go. I was just leaving the campus and then darted in on a whim. I turned off my phone for the talk and forgot about it.

"You know, Azami, _you_ could have called _me_, if you were so concerned."

Although her head did not move, Azami's amber gaze shifted from the papers back to him. Miyagi could tell from the arch of her brows that his response displeased her. Azami's fine brows then dipped as her eyes narrowed.

"Wouldn't have done me much good if your phone was off."

While there was truth in this, long-held resentment for making himself accountable to the woman before him rendered Miyagi's throat tight. He burned to admit that he'd thought about it, even started to text, but decided against it in the end simply because he hadn't wanted to deal with her.

Still, once again, he held his tongue. But over the course of their many skirmishes he'd learned there were other weapons available to him. Knowing how much she hated it when he smoked in the apartment; Miyagi set his water bottle down and fished out the crumpled pack from his breast pocket. At last Azami's tone became sharp.

"Don't you dare light that in here, Yoh! You've been smoking too much already. You reek of it; I can smell it from here!"

Reveling in her response, Miyagi shrugged and pulled out his lighter. Holding her gaze, eyes challenging, he lit up, drew a deep drag, and exhaled.

"Been drinking too much too… If you must know. Surprised your delicate nose didn't pick up on that that as well."

_Among other things…_

The hurt that suddenly flared in Azami's eyes convicted Miyagi in ways he despised. Dropping his head at last, he still held fast to his smoke. However, he lowered his hand to the counter and rested it lightly there, suddenly fearful that unsupported, it might tremble.

"Blame Kamijou."

Even as he deflected, Miyagi silently cursed his cowardice. Still, as far as he was concerned, this was hardly a lie. It was Hiroki's damn urging he attend Shinobu's talk that had started this whole mess.

Azami removed her glasses and folded them carefully before looking him up and down.

"You're telling me that the reclusive Kamijou-san took you bar hopping after the lecture? He's your scapegoat for coming home falling-down drunk?"

Anger sparked at this evaluation, Miyagi ignored the questions and finally allowed the growl churning in his chest to become audible.

"I'm hardly that inebriated!"

"How do you explain your pants then?"

Looking down to where Azami gestured with her glasses, Miyagi grimaced. While he'd stopped off at a convenience store and used the restroom to clean up after leaving the bar, he noticed now for the first time that the knees of his slacks were smudged. His mind flashed to the bar's back room; kneeling on the dank concrete, the dick in his mouth. A reel of possible lies rolled through his mind.

In an instant his fury fled and he was overcome with a soul-shattering weariness.

It took great effort for Miyagi to raise his dark head, but finally, he did. Looking up from his stained trousers he met golden eyes once more. The silent inquiry that greeted him was more penetrating than the cock that had breached him less than an hour before. Even so, he held Azami's unblinking gaze.

Then long eyelashes finally fluttered and Azami's expression shifted from anger to concern. By the time her eyes finally stilled, their usual lightness had grown dark with disappointment and sorrow.

Weariness vanished as a new wave of fury welled up in Miyagi, first at Azami and then himself. When this rage crested, it was replaced by a wash of indescribable emptiness.

_She doesn't deserve this… Not any more than Shinobu did… _

"You win…"

"What?" Amber eyes widened with shock at the mumbled surrender.

Miyagi ground on, his voice leaden. "I'm going to take my stinking, drunk ass to the shower and then to bed." He turned and stubbed out his smoke on the bottom of the kitchen sink, briefly running the tap to erase the ash. "I have an early class tomorrow."

After a long moment of open puzzlement, at last Azami looked away. Their clash had not at all ended the way she'd envisioned and despite the concession, she had not won.

The shift in her posture from combat-ready to one of unhappy resignation was not missed by the watching, weary blue eyes. Without another word, Miyagi pushed himself away from the counter, picked up his briefcase, and headed into the back of the apartment. As his footsteps retreated behind her, Azami sat still. Finally she unfolded her glasses and re-donned them once more.

"Leave your pants on that old chair of yours in the bedroom. I'll take them out with the rest of the dry-cleaning tomorrow, before my afternoon lecture."

No sooner had she said this than Azami turned her attention back to her essays, her normally petaled lips pressed into a hard line.

From the hall, Miyagi heard the wear in her words. Part of him wished that she had rejected his surrender and forced the matter. But in an instant, his stomach knotted and his chest hollowed at the possibilities of such an altercation. Then the noose in his gut twisted tighter at the realization that once more he'd failed.

* * *

**The name I chose for the woman in this story, Azami, means both "Word of the Heart" and "Thistle." Given the circumstances, this double meaning seemed significant and appropriate here.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Dark head resting against the shower's wall, Miyagi leaned into the spray, hiding beneath a curtain of water.

While he'd been tired enough the bath stool had beckoned, standing, it was easier to clean himself out.

With effort, he threw off his shroud of steam, plucked the shower's wand from its holder, and directed it to his lower regions. Methodically, Miyagi adjusted the nozzle to a more concentrated stream. Hissing lightly, he used one hand to part his cheeks while the other aimed the heated flow at his asshole. It stung, but not as much as a moment later, when his holding hand shifted.

Pushing first one and then two wet fingers into his tense entrance, Miyagi worked it open again, allowing the water to flood him. True, the stud at the bar had worn a condom, and he had wiped most of the grease from his skin before coming home, but he longed to feel completely clean.

Directing the current up inside him, Miyagi understood already that in certain regards this action was useless: while it might steal some of the stain, he would still remain sullied in places he'd never reach.

He'd carried out such ablutions often enough to know this.

Feeling the water fill and fall from his ass, despite his best resolve, Miyagi's mind was drawn to Shinobu yet again.

_How many times since I left him have I engaged in these sordid acts?_

Not long after they'd parted, he had almost lost himself in night after night of such risky excursions. It wasn't until Kamijou had conducted a frank but cautiously worded intervention with him that Miyagi had realized he was hurtling towards the same sort of professional destruction he'd abandoned Shinobu to avoid.

Uniting with Azami had been, in part, an attempt to thwart his unhealthy compulsions, but while her presence had slowed his pace, he had yet to be able to hold out entirely.

_Always still seeking…_

Thoughts of the boy, now man, had never ceased haunting him from the first seconds of their break. Shinobu ignited things within him Miyagi had never imagined would kindle. It had not taken long for him to realize that while his first love, the love he'd felt for his sensei, was that of a young acolyte. His feelings for Shinobu, however…

_Still spiritual in a sense, but… So much more ancient and earthly…_

Pulling the spray away now, Miyagi left his fingers inside. Although he'd gotten hard more than once at the bar, he hadn't come. And as soon as his trick had pulled out, he had drawn up his trousers and left. Pressing his fingers together now, he began to awkwardly pump them in and out of his chafed hole, hoping they might fumble over his point of pleasure.

Leaning his forehead harder against slick tiles, he pushed his thick digits further in. Miyagi imagined Shinobu behind, pressed close, inside him, furious, punishing.

_Please…_

His aching cock revived.

Miyagi's internal vision shifted then, and he saw Shinobu as he's stood before him tonight. Suddenly, in his fantasy, he was on top; hands, cock, tongue, all mapping the shifted contours of Shinobu's skin, penetrating, purging, re-claiming.

The shower's wand slipped from trembling fingers and a lean arm braced against the wall. Miyagi's other hand abandoned his ass and took hold of his cock. His strained flesh was tender here and he groaned as he began coaxing himself to fullness.

"Yoh?"

Too lost in his thoughts of Shinobu to have heard soft the knocking above the sound of the shower's running water, Miyagi froze when he registered the door creaking open and Azami's hesitant call. As the hinges swung wider, he sprang in to action.

Stroking hand abandoned heated flesh. Cursing under his breath, Miyagi shut the shower off before dipping to retrieve the showerhead that had been twisting below as it sprayed at his calves

"What?" The ferocity of the question belied his frustration.

Azami however, remained in the threshold and called out again. "Yoh, I'm sorry to interrupt your shower, but I want to get ready for bed. I'm too tired to grade anymore."

Though he heard contrition and a quiet pleading in her voice, Miyagi was unmoved. Safe behind the shower's curtain he made no attempt to soften the edge in his tone.

"Fine."

Heart still pounding in his chest, he re-hung the shower's wand in its holder and turned the water back on. Over a softer stream he heard Azami make her way to the sink and the sound of a lighter current soon joined his. The tension filling the small room was as palpable as the steam weighting the air. Miyagi watched his dick quickly began to lose its blood. Seeking escape from the oppressive atmosphere, he closed his eyes and darted under the spray again. But it was no use.

Twisting his lean torso to the side, he pushed back his thick bangs and wiped the water from his eyes. Swallowing hard, he drew a deep breath. Then, he leaned a bit more to the side and peered out through the slit of space between the shower's curtain and the wall.

Back to him, Azami stood before the mirrored vanity. She had shed the robe she'd been wearing while at the table, and now wore only a pair of high-cut, white cotton briefs and a string-strapped camisole that made her pale skin glow. The pins that had held her hair up had been pulled and left it in a loose pony-clasp, gathered, hanging thick and heavy from the nape of her slender neck down to the small of her back.

A circle of fogged mirror had been wiped clear before her and in this Miyagi could see Azami's face as it emerged from the damp cloth she was washing with. Although a year older than he, she was aging far better: her oval face porcelain smooth but for a slight crinkling at the edges of her eyes.

Reaching for her toothbrush, a strap of camisole slipped off Azami's shoulder. In the clear patch of mirror, Miyagi saw the dark circle of one of her small nipples peep out from behind soft fabric.

In sharp contrast to his ex, Risako's, voluptuous curves, Azami's breasts were small, almost negligible. While her shoulders were slightly broader than many women's, her waist was tiny, her overall lines lean. Although these features had often left Azami feeling dismal about her appearance, this was part of what had made her bearable if not appealing to Miyagi at first.

Even so, Miyagi could not deny the number of times he'd kissed her and felt the ghost of Shinobu's firm lips against his own, or come, imagining another body, more angular still, beneath his.

Before him, in the haze of the mirror, the dip in Azami's shirt deepened further, revealing the swell of her small breast. She bent forward slightly and in this stance from behind, Miyagi could see the gentle contours of her cleft beneath pristine cotton. He was struck by was what present here as well as absent. In his duality, his traitorous cock began to swell again at this sight of Azami, unconscious in her ablutions.

Filled with the knowledge that Shinobu had stood only seconds away in his thoughts, he stifled a growl of self-hatred at this new betrayal.

Still he continued to watch.

After brushing her teeth, Azami loosed the clasp from her hair, allowing it to tumble down. Once she'd run a brush quickly through this sheaf of black, she set the brush down and leaned forward again. A small hand reached and wiped away the newly-clouded mirror in a circle wider than the previous. A crease formed on her smooth brow as Azami regarded herself.

Miyagi ducked when a golden gaze filled with undisguised longing, glanced back furtively at the closed curtain shrouding him. He turned away quickly into the torrent. Closing his eyes, Miyagi held still as the hard water stung his eyelids. Behind his lids, this new vision of Azami was just one more in army of unhappy images that marched through his mind.

_How did I get here?_

It was a question he asked himself every day, knowing already, like many things, that the answer was both incredibly complex and equally simple.

Eyes still closed, a creak of hinges alerted Miyagi to Azami's departure.

While the hot water had not yet run out, his flesh suddenly chilled. After a couple more labored heartbeats, an unsteady hand reached out and turned off the spray. For several minutes Miyagi stood in the cooling stall, his whole body trembling, before his knees finally gave way and he sank silently to the slick tiles beneath him.

* * *

**Unlike many people who read JR and declare Miyagi was always gay and just needed Shinobu to come to terms with his homosexuality, I choose to open the spectrum of sexual orientation and prefer thinking of him as truly bisexual. **

**Below is a link to one person's story regarding his own dual nature. I particularly appreciate the author's openness about his own experiences around the conflict between desire and the reality of sexual experience. There was much in his article that I resonated with, perhaps some of you will also. Either way, I offer this to you as something interesting to consider.**

** www. nytimes 2014/09/21/opinion/sunday/charles-blow-up-from-pain. html?_r=1**

**Take out the spaces to access the link. Also, please note this article contains a description of child sexual abuse that may be triggering to some.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Another World, Another Time**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Towel wrapped loosely around narrow hips, Miyagi tread softly into the bedroom.

He was filled with relief at the silence that greeted his entrance. It had taken over twenty minutes for him to regain his composure enough to feel safe leaving the bathroom and even now, he was sure that the edges of his eyes were still red.

A small lamp had been left on at the bedside and in the dim light he glanced over at the petite form curled up on the futon. Azami's black hair fanned out over her white pillowcase. For a few long minutes Miyagi simply stood still, watching crisp sheets softly rise and fall of with her sleeping breaths. Then he made his way over to his tattered reading chair.

A furrow creased his brow when his eyes again caught the dark marks on the knees of his slacks lying folded over the chair's back. He did not allow his gaze to linger here, however, and they quickly traveled down to the seat where his well-worn work case sat.

_Waiting._

The contents of his case had been weighing on his mind all evening .

Unaware that he'd been holding his breath, Miyagi loosed a lengthy exhale when the clasp on his case clicked softly open and his long-fingered hands dipped inside, pulling out the two books Shinobu had signed for him. He had not been able to bring himself to look at them before now, to see what his former lover had written within their pages.

After a quick glance back at an unstirring, Azumi, Miyagi drew another deep breath and lifted the worn cover of Shinobu's first book.

_Sensei, _

_Perhaps there is something in this story's characters that will strike you as familiar. _

_When we were together I learned many things. But the lessons did not stop here. _

_You were right, perhaps I have read too many fairy tales, but regardless, i__n your leaving, you taught me that I must become the author of my own life despite of the actions of others. As such, I will love those that I do in the ways that I can. I will have my happy ending. _

_Even if these things may only exist as the words on my pages._

_Takatsuki Shinobu_

Miyagi jolted as his mouth suddenly filled with the taste of copper. Until this moment, he hadn't noticed that he had been biting his lower lip as his eyes scanned Shinobu's careful calligraphy.

The significance of the address and the words that followed was not lost on him. Miyagi's eyes began to blur and burn as he scanned the words again. This time he noticed that a single drop of blood had fallen from his bowed head onto the cream-colored page below, punctuating the end of Shinobu's inscription. Miyagi touched his index finger to the drop, but the crimson spot had already been pulled into the thirsty paper and begun to turn brown.

Carefully he shut the cover and slid the book beneath its newer brother. Miyagi closed his eyes as he opened the barely creased binding, his heart thundering in his chest, fearful of what he might find here. At last, a sigh from the far side of the room made Miyagi open his eyes again. After looking over to ensure that Azami wasn't truly waking, he turned back and glanced down.

_Miyagi,_

_Despite everything, I still believe in Fate. If not in in this incarnation, then in another. _

_Another world. Another time._

_Yours,_

_Shinobu_

How long he stood there staring at these words, Miyagi didn't know. It wasn't until his teeth began to chatter, his bare skin succumb to the chill of the bedroom, that his eyes at last shifted over to the clock on the night stand and he saw that it was now past three- o'clock in the morning.

Stiff fingers reluctantly closed Shinobu's second text and Miyagi set both reverently back into his bag. There would be no dark drawer in these books' future; he knew already that, from now on, Shinobu's words would accompany him everywhere.

Clasp closed, his treasures safely stored, Miyagi stumbled over to the futon, losing his damp towel along the way. He slipped shivering beneath the sheets, waiting for them to warm him. As his flesh began to gain heat, his eyelids grew increasingly heavy. He was almost asleep, when the press of Azami's hot skin against his own still-cool flesh started him back into consciousness.

Her touch burned, the feel of soft skin chafed against all his rawness. He turned away, on to his side, only to have Azami murmur a sleepy sound of protest and move against him once more. A slender arm slipped over his waist and Miyagi felt the silky press of bangs between the blades of his shoulders as Azami settled her forehead here.

Shinobu's words came back to him.

_The author of my own life… _

Despite all the correctness in how his situation appeared to the outside world, his heart was convicted of how utterly wrong this felt.

_What have I penned? _

Miyagi's mind spun out once more, churning with what he'd turned away from and what he'd held to.

Exhausted beyond anything he had ever known before, his eyelids fluttered and finally fell. His last thought before he lost consciousness- a prayer he might stumble into one of Shinobu's other worlds in his dreams and never be roused.

* * *

**Thank you for reading**


	8. Chapter 8

**Another World, Another Time**

**Epilogue I**

* * *

"There!... I think that's the last of it! How you fit so much crap into this office, I'll never know.

"Remind me not to offer to help you move again, Professor!"

Miyagi looked up from the papers he was sorting to see Hiroki rubbing his hands together, the last box of books from his shelves in their shared office taped and sitting on the floor at his feet.

"I doubt there a much chance I'll be calling on you for that anytime soon."

Noting the sheen on his junior's forehead Miyagi tipped his dark head slightly to the side. "I can't believe with all this moving you haven't gotten hot enough to want to take that turtle-neck off yet, Kamijou."

A chuckle escaped him at the blush the suddenly burned in Hiroki's cheeks, even though he knew that his teasing was a poor way to repay his junior's hospitality. Especially since, having left his flat to Azami, for the last month he had been crashing with the younger professor.

Living with Hiroki and his doctor hadn't proved to be too difficult… At least, not for him. But Miyagi was only too-well aware, while he'd tried to be as innocuous a guest as possible, his presence in the Kamijou-Kusama's guest room had been inciting Hiroki's giant to mark his territory with increasing ferocity and frequency. And although he was inclined to believe that Hiroki wasn't entirely adverse to such additional attentions from his possessive partner, hiding the results of these had significantly impacted his junior's usual mode of dressing.

After placing the last of his papers into the half-full box beside him, Miyagi rose and stretched. Then he moved over to where Hiroki stood, pink still hot on his cheeks, dusting the newly vacated shelf and studiously ignoring him. The mischievous expression that had graced Miyagi's features a moment before slipped into something far more serious as he set a careful hand on Hiroki's shoulder.

Hiroki started lightly and turned to face him wearing his usual frown.

"Seriously, Hiroki… Thank you.

"For everything."

The dark eyes before him flashed with surprise before quickly dropping away. Flushed cheeks blazed even pinker and, beneath his palm, Miyagi could feel his junior's tight muscles tense further with discomfort at the earnestness of the gratitude he was being offered.

"Hiro-san…"

Both Miyagi and Hiroki looked over simultaneously at Nowaki's sudden appearance in the door frame. Seeing the hand on his lover, Nowaki's cheerful expression faltered for only the barest of moments.

Miyagi gave Hiroki's shoulder a hearty clap before dropping his hand, ensuring that Nowaki would see his gesture had been purely fraternal. He watched as the doctor's blue eyes dropped to the box sitting at his lover's feet.

"Is that the last box, Hiro-san?"

Hiroki looked over questioningly. "Miyagi?"

Miyagi moved away and back to his own half-filled box of papers. "That, and this one here, and we're finished."

Hiroki started to bend down to pick up the taped parcel of books but Nowaki was at his side in a flash, hoisting it up. "I've got it, Hiro-san!"

Nowaki nodded at Miyagi. "I'll go put this in your car with the others."

It took little stretch of his imagination for Miyagi guess why Kusama had so happily given up one of his rare days off to help with the packing. Cordial as he was, it was obvious that the young man was looking forward to having both apartment and lover back to himself.

"I could have gotten that, you know!" Despite the bite in his tone, the annoyance that had flashed across Hiroki's face when Nowaki intercepted the books had settled into a slightly less aggravated expression.

A sly smile quirked the corner of Nowaki's mouth. He had been on his best behavior for a month and now that the older professor was finally leaving, he found he'd reached his limit in holding back any more. Disregarding the fact that Miyagi was in the room, he leaned his shaggy head forward and placed a quick peck on Hiroki's ever-furrowed brow. "I want you to save your strength, Hiro-san."

Dipping closer, he whispered loudly. "When we get home, you're going to need it."

"Shut up and get that box in the car, Dumb ass!"

Nowaki dodged the blow that had been aimed at his shoulder chuckling. Hiroki glanced quickly over towards Miyagi, mortified by Nowaki's overtness.

While he would have liked to have laughed himself, Miyagi decided to take pity on his flustered friend. He dipped his head as if he hadn't seen or heard anything and mumbled about, pretending to look for a "missing paper."

No sooner had Nowaki left their office however, than Miyagi dropped his act, eyes glinting.

"Oi, Kamijou! Here. If you really want to lug something around, grab this box." After settling the lid into place, he pushed it at Hiroki who quickly stepped forward to take it.

Miyagi glanced down at his wrist-watch.

"Looks like we finished just in time! I'll be able to drop these off at the shipper's along with the car and still be able to get the airport on schedule."

A strange expression flitted across Hiroki's face. "You know, Miyagi, Nowaki drove his car here today.

"Are you sure you don't want us to follow you to the shipping station? We could easily take you to the airport as well."

Miyagi's heart warmed at the offer, but he shook his dark head. "Thanks, but no need to give up any more of your day. I can easily take a cab." Seeing that his junior was about to protest, he grinned.

"Besides, I think that Kusama-kun has other plans for your afternoon… If I am not mistaken." As he'd hoped, this little jibe snapped Hiroki's jaw shut and set his face back into its usual stern facade, a new blush coloring his cheeks.

This settled, Miyagi ambled over to his chair and retrieved his jacket, slipping it over an arm. Then he grabbed his work case from atop his bare desk. Hiroki watched solemnly and once he was sure that Miyagi wasn't missing anything, he moved with him out of the office. Before closing the door, Miyagi gave one last wistful glance back at the place where he'd spent almost half of his life. Sensing the significance of the moment, Hiroki waited in silence until he was ready and then they headed off together, down the quiet hallway. The sound of their shoes echoed down the polished halls.

"I always liked the University on Sundays," Miyagi murmured. "It's peaceful."

Beside him Hiroki offered a soft grunt in agreement.

"Bet you're going to relish having that office to yourself, Kamijou."

"Fat chance! First opportunity they have, you know the administration is going to stick some green grad student in there with me!" Hiroki snorted in disgust at the prospect, missing the irony of his statement. "And after I had just finally gotten used to dealing with you, too!"

A smile quirked Miyagi's lips at his junior's false bluster. "Ah, Ka-mee-jou… I do believe you're really going to miss me."

"Hardly," Hiroki growled as he pushed open the door that led out into the quad. "It will be nice not to get harassed every day."

Miyagi stopped just outside the door to set down his case and pull his cigarettes out of his breast pocket and paused to light up. "There's still the phone you know. It's not like I'm going to another dimension."

Hiroki's brow creased at this, then he shot back. "Ah, but I can screen my calls; I couldn't screen the office."

Twin streams of smoke curled from Miyagi's nostrils as he exhaled. "True."

There seemed to be no good retort Hiroki could make to this simple assent, so the two men fell silent once more. Miyagi grabbed his bag up again and they traveled quickly across the vacant walkways to where Nowaki stood, his long form leaning casually up against Miyagi's sedan, waiting.

Hiroki set the last box in the back and shut the trunk. "That's it then."

"Are you sure you're not going to get bored in Yamatgata, Professor?" Dark eyes looked up at Miyagi and not for the first time, Miyagi could see that his leaving was having a greater impact on the younger man than Hiroki would ever admit.

Despite his own emotions at how profound it was to be making such a shift in his life, Miyagi gave a bright smile.

"Ah Kamijou, see, I told you… You're missing me already."

Hearing the low growl that burred up in Hiroki's throat and noting the tic in Nowaki's left eye, Miyagi laughed.

"Seriously though, how could being the Director for the Matsuo Basho Museum ever possibly get boring? Do you know what it will be like to live and breathe among his works every day?"

"I think _you_ would be the one more apt to get bored without me around to keep things lively. Although I imagine that your new position as chair of the department should alleviate that some."

Hiroki's face took on a new shade of pink and he uncomfortably adjusted the high neck band of his sweater.

"Hiro-san, when did that happen?"

Miyagi glanced over and saw Nowaki's wide-eyed expression.

"A few months ago," Hiroki stammered uncomfortably. "Look, it's not a big deal, Nowaki…"

"Oh come now, Kamijou." Miyagi interrupted blowing a long stream of smoke. "Youngest chair in the history of the department. As long as I was here, I was never asked to take up the reins.

"I heard from Professor Fujimura too that they want to start grooming you for deanship, especially since Dean Takatsuki has started mumbling about 'retirement.'"

"Really, Hiro-san?"

"Don't you have a plane to catch, Miyagi?" The exasperation in Hiroki's voice was just what Miyagi had hoped for: it made his departure so much easier. He grinned and dropped his cigarette, grinding it out on the ground with the toe of his shoe.

"Right you are, Kamijou! Can't keep Basho waiting!"

After a few more uncomfortable thanks and goodbyes were exchanged, Miyagi slipped gratefully into the front seat. With a wave he was off, Hiroki and Nowaki soon just two small points of color in the rearview mirror behind him.

_And up ahead? _

Despite the ache in his chest, Miyagi lit up another cigarette, already anticipating the agony of the upcoming smoke-free hours of flying ahead. After a moment, he glanced down at the pack on the seat next to him and wondered if he shouldn't stop and pick up another along the way: something was off with this one, the smoke making his eyes water unusually.

Wiping them with the cuff of his shirt, the sudden blurriness seemed somehow appropriate… For the first time in years he suddenly had no clear vision of what his life was going to look like from here.

* * *

**So, when I first started this story, it was supposed to end with the last chapter. Getting to that point however, I realized I didn't want to have it end there so hopelessly. I guess Shinobu is not the only one to yearn for happier endings.**

** So there's this and the next chapter. **

**Plus this gave me a chance to insert a little more of my beloved Egoists into this piece. Heh...**

**For those of you detail nerds like myself, there is indeed a Matsuo Basho Museum in Yamagata, Japan. You can read about here at **

**english. yamagata-museum .jp/mu29fozou-235/ **

**(Take the spaces out to use the link.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Another World, Another Time**

**Epilogue II**

* * *

"Ah… Excuse me, Director…"

Miyagi looked up from his desk to see his assistant, Mukata, standing in the doorway of his office, hands fluttering.

He knew that he made Mukata nervous.

_Hell, everybody makes Mukata nervous. _

Not for the first time since taking his new post, Miyagi found himself nostalgic for Kamijou's heartier anxiousness. Setting the papers he'd been looking at down, he nodded for Mukata to enter.

The movement of Mukata's hands increased as he stepped over the threshold. "I've had the staff lock up the museum for the evening; the last tour left about an hour ago. But… er, one of our guests is still in the library. I was wondering if I should tell him we're closing."

Without being mentioned by name, Miyagi knew exactly which particular guest Mukata was referring to. It had caused quite a stir among his staff when a publishing agent had contacted the museum several months prior, asking about accommodations for her author's newest research project.

Miyagi pushed back from leaning over his desk and stretched. "You can head home, Mukata-kun. I still have a few more details to go over for this month's tea ceremony schedule. I'll drop by the library when I'm done and if he's still here, I'll see him out."

Visible relief flooded Mukata's face: he had not wished to be the one to inform their esteemed visitor that he needed to leave. "Thank you, Director!"

With a smiled grunt of assent Miyagi waved his fretful assistant off before dropping his eyes back down to the complicated ceremony schedule. His mind however, was now a million miles away.

* * *

As he changed shoes and locked the Museum's front door behind him, Miyagi's heart began to beat faster. Heading over to the grounds small detached library, his feet crunched lightly on the neat gravel paths. Shifting the work case in his hand to get a better grip, he wondered if he'd find the library empty and was unsure if he was hoping for this or not.

He hadn't had the chance to greet their famous visitor when he'd had arrived; he'd been away presenting his own work, his newest paper on Basho, at a conference in Tokyo. Since returning, their paths had yet to cross and now Miyagi questioned if his offer to Mukata to close the library had been the wisest thing to do.

Drawing a deep breath, Miyagi pulled the early-evening breeze into his tight chest. The air was so much cleaner in Yamagata than in Tokyo, it had actually enticed him to cut down on his smoking. His eyes scanned the grounds, relishing the peacefulness. He took another strong draught, savoring the scents that accompanied the early fall. He loved the Museum when it was still like this; the only noise the whispers of relics.

If he could have, he would have taken up full-time residence at the Museum. As it was, his new apartment was a mere two miles away. It was tiny really, just two rooms and a small bath, but he had found, on his own, this was more than enough space. He had pared his life down to just the essentials in his move and, with all the events and meetings inherent in his directorship, he was rarely home anyways.

Rising from his thoughts, Miyagi realized his feet had carried him to the porch of the library. Entering, he noted a single pair of shoes in the visitors' cubbies. Stepping out of his walking shoes once more, he slid the paneled door into the inner area open and, after a pause to gather himself, ventured inside.

Moving through the small stacks, he stopped short just before arriving at the reading area. The dwindling sun cast its warm rays through the windows bathing the part of the room that held the study desks in gold.

There, at one of the stations, sat Shinobu, blond head bowed over his laptop, an open book beside him.

It had been almost a year and a half since the night of his lecture at the University. Not that this mattered anymore to Miyagi. A day, a year, ten years, a hundred… He understood now that seeing Shinobu would always set something spinning within him, regardless of how much time had passed.

Painted in amber tones, Shinobu looked mythical and Miyagi couldn't help but stare. His breath caught in his chest and his feet suddenly rooted themselves into the tatamis until he heard a cough that finally roused him from his reverie.

"Are you going to just stand there all night, Director? Spying on me from the rows."

Blue eyes grew wide at the familiar snap in Shinobu's tone, but Miyagi was also stunned to note now how the light had shifted and faded indicating just how long he had stood there, transfixed. He shook his dark head. The irony that, in this instance, he was the one lurking among the rows was not lost on him. Drawing his shoulders back, Miyagi stepped forward.

"Sorry, Sensei. I didn't want to disturb you. You looked so…"

_Beautiful_

"Intent."

A flush of pink had begun to make its ascent up Shinobu's strong neck the second Miyagi had addressed him as "Sensei."

For a moment their eyes met and Miyagi watched the earlier bravado in Shinobu's posture flicker, tensing to see if the title had been teasing as his own "Director" had been. Miyagi schooled his features to let Shinobu understand he was earnest. Shinobu's expression softened at this and the accomplished man seated before him flashed to his tender boy of old again, for just an instant, before Shinobu looked away, back down to the safety of his computer screen.

Noting for the first time the hour indicated by the clock on his laptop, the rising pink in Shinobu's cheeks deepened. As Miyagi took another step closer, Shinobu rose and began fumbling with his papers. He snapped his laptop closed without even bothering to shut it down.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how late it had gotten. You must be anxious to close everything up for the night."

Biting back a smile at this sudden fluster, Miyagi shrugged. "Everyone else has gone home, but I'm not in any particular hurry. So please, don't stop on my account."

"Besides, I had hoped to catch you. I have been feeling guilty for not properly welcoming you to the Museum."

At this, Shinobu's flurried pace slowed. Having re-gained some of his composure, gray eyes glanced back up again. "Thank you for being so accommodating, but I was at a stopping point anyway."

Shinobu slid his laptop into his bag. "Mukata-san mentioned that you were away at a conference… So, I wasn't sure if I'd see you while I was here."

"Yes, I was in Tokyo. I've been here long enough now it was quite a change of pace to go back. Had a good visit with Kamijou while I was there…" Miyagi was acutely aware that he was slipping into an uneasy ramble, but everything in his being was demanding him to draw out this encounter as long as possible before Shinobu fled from him.

"I saw on the news while I was there that Toyoda-kun won another case. When you talk to him next please extend my congratulations."

Miyagi was uncertain of whether it was his good wishes or Toyoda's win that caused the look of surprise on Shinobu's face, but the younger man's response quickly cleared up his question.

"Ah, he won another case? Well, I wouldn't have expected anything less from him. He was always tenacious in his endeavors. "

There were miles of space between each of Shinobu's careful words. It wasn't until Miyagi looked down at the younger man's hands that the gaps suddenly closed. He saw immediately the ring that had graced one of Shinobu's fingers on the night of the book signing, something he was acutely aware of when handed the two inscribed books, was now bare and had apparently be so long enough for no telltale marks to remain.

Miyagi clenched his fists at his side to keep from reaching out.

_Is it alright that I came to you? _

His mind swarming with even more questions now, the urge to set his hand over Shinobu's slender fingers as they fumbled with the catch on his computer case was overwhelming. Overcome with this new information Miyagi switched the subject of the conversation quickly.

"Well, I hope that the staff has made things easy for you in your researching." Forcing his voice to be much more jocular than he felt he added.

"I have to say, I was surprised to hear that you had decided to do a volume for your series set here, at the Museum."

He was shocked when at these words, Shinobu's expression darkened. Gray eyes smoldered and the younger man snapped.

"Just so you know, Miyagi, I had planned this long before your appointment!" Both their eyes widened at the unexpected force Shinobu's sudden breathless declaration.

Miyagi nodded. "Of course."

After what Shinobu had been through it was only right that he should have such a response. Miyagi kept his tone kind, despite the sudden ache in his chest. "It would have been the natural progression, given where you seemed to be leading in your last book."

These words had an immediate and unexpected effect. Fire suddenly extinguished, Shinobu's eyes dropped; one hand nervously still twisted the catch on his case. The blush on his cheeks was furious.

"You're… you're still reading?"

The question was asked so quietly Miyagi had to lean in to catch it. However, the volume of his own reply wasn't much louder.

"Everything you've ever written, Shinobu. Every word."

The expression on Shinobu's face when he lifted his head to meet Miyagi's gaze filled Miyagi's chest and threatened to ignite him. Even so, he could tell his confession was burdensome for Shinobu. Not wanting to cause his former terrorist any more grief than he already had, he shifted the subject once more.

"I imagine that your readers will be very anxious for you to get this new volume done. You left the two main characters in such dire straits at the last."

It pleased Miyagi immensely to see Shinobu's shoulders lift at these words and his mood lighten.

"Well, everyone loves a sequel it seems." Shinobu offered this seemingly offhand as he pulled his bag of the desktop, setting its strap on his shoulder.

"This is true." Miyagi agreed. "People become quite attached to their favorite characters. To the point it seems like they never want the stories to end."

Something in this caused the side of Shinobu's mouth to curl into a small smile. The sight left Miyagi dizzy. Clearing his throat he hesitated. He'd not felt off balance since he'd been in his teens. He fought to keep his voice light.

"Once I leave here, I plan to stop off and grab something quick for dinner. There's a good ramen shop about half a mile down the road. "

_What am I doing? I have no right to ask this… but I want so much to know you again, get to know the man you are now._

"Would you care to join me?" It was a far cry from any sort of bold confession, but for Miyagi it certainly felt like one.

Shinobu's eyes widened at the invitation. One of his hands rose and nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. It took a few moments before he answered. But Miyagi's heart had already dropped down to his feet. Before Shinobu even replied he knew he'd been too forward, too... Hopeful.

"Ah… I can't tonight. But thank you for the invitation."

"Yes, of course. I completely understand." Miyagi worked to keep the disappointment from his voice, but even so, it crept in around the edges. He stepped back to allow Shinobu to move past him. However, instead Shinobu drew near and then stopped at his side.

"You see, I have a phone interview in an hour with someone from the BBC for a European tour I'm doing in a few months."

Standing this close, Miyagi swore he could feel the afternoon sun radiating off of Shinobu, a warmth captured and lingering on the younger man's skin.

"Oh?"

Shinobu nodded, watching him carefully.

"But… Uh… Maybe if you're not too busy we could go for lunch tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, of course. I'd like that." It was all Miyagi could do to contain his smile. "I am sure I have a window in my schedule."

Shinobu's blond head nodded as well, his tense expression suddenly relaxed. "Do you know a good place for lunch? I'm still learning my way around here."

Miyagi turned to head out and Shinobu fell into step alongside him. "I can think of a spot or two."

They walked into the entry and each donned their shoes. Shinobu straightened after tightening his laces. His face was serious once more. "Just promise me one thing, Miyagi."

Miyagi's heart skipped a beat; a sense of terrible apprehension suddenly gripped him. It took all he had to keep his expression neutral. "I will do my best, Shinobu."

"Don't... Please don't suggest any place that serves cabbage."

A barking laugh of both relief and surprise escaped Miyagi at these words. Shinobu followed him outside of the library and watched as he locked the door.

"Fair enough, Shinobu. Although I have to admit, I rather have a taste for it…

"Especially when served slightly burnt."

Shinobu issued an audible snort at this, but even so he offered another tentative smile. Miyagi returned this with a crooked grin of his own.

Then their grins faded into something softer. For several long, melancholic moments they stood, without a word, a myriad of exchanges occurring between them until each had arrived at his own understanding. They remained still until a new breeze rose, stirring them both. Feeling content in the moment, they allowed the amiable silence between them to linger as they headed off across the dim grounds.

For Miyagi, despite the fact he had no idea what might happen between him and Shinobu beyond lunch the next day, just to have Shinobu by his side now was enough. Casting a surreptitious glance at the handsome young man walking alongside him, he felt a peace that he hadn't known for ages. What he did know, was, that whatever transpired, he was the active author of his own life once again and on the brink of another new chapter.

Drawing a deep breath, Miyagi relished the living stretch of his lungs. The cool air of the evening filled him. However, beyond this, his chest was also full of a profound sense of gratitude for his world in that moment.

For the possibility of new beginnings, and perhaps happier endings.

**The End**

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I would, of course, appreciate hearing your thoughts.**


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